


A Proposition

by lesbrarians



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Dead People, Gen, Mind Reading, Multishep Universe, Renegade Shepard (Mass Effect), Sensory Abilities, Unsanitary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbrarians/pseuds/lesbrarians
Summary: Ai Shepard and Javik spend their shore leave examining the ship, when they find an unwelcome visitor in their private hideaway. Cameos by the three other Shepards of the Normandy: K. Shepard, Sam Shepard, and Tiffany Shepard (MultiShep Universe).





	A Proposition

“Okay, I’m not _saying_ I’m gonna trounce your ass at Shattered Eezo… but I’m gonna trounce your ass at Shattered Eezo,” K said. After a particularly taxing mission chasing down mercs on Omega, the Normandy crew was gearing up to enjoy some well-earned shore leave, and K had her heart set on visiting the Castle Arcade. "C'mon, look at me.“ She flexed her biceps. "I’m a Bruiser, you really think I’m gonna lose at a punching game?”

“First of all,” Tiffany began. “It’s an arcade game. Your muscles mean nothing here. Secondly, you’ve never seen me play. I’m _good_. You don’t stand a chance.”

K laughed. “Them’s fighting words, Tiff.”

“Loser buys the drinks!” Sam chimed in as the three of them exited the Port Observation Room lounge.

“What– you’re not even playing!” Tiffany exclaimed.

“I mean, I’m game,” K said. “Win, lose, I get alcohol either way, so really, it’s a win-win–”

They rounded the corner and ran squarely into Ai and Javik, who were leaving the mess hall.

“Hey guys!” Sam said brightly. Tiffany was diplomatic in her hello, while K just mumbled something under her breath that could have been _what’s up_ , or it could have been _oh god_.

“Samantha,” Javik said, nodding at her. Ai lifted her chin slightly in acknowledgment. “We were just discussing shore leave plans.”

K had been pregaming in the lounge, and what little self-restraint she possessed was completely out the window. “Oh, no you don’t,” she said, pointing at Javik before swinging her finger over to Sam. “You chose them over us last time. The three of us are going out, I’m beating Tiffany at Shattered Eezo, then we’re getting shitfaced at some expensive bar somewhere, because I won’t be the one paying for it.”

“Wow, K,” Tiffany said, shaking her head at her. 

Sam grimaced apologetically at Ai and Javik. “Yeah, sorry…”

They both stared at her in response, as if hoping she would come to her senses.

The five of them stood at an impasse outside the elevators, the seconds dragging out interminably.

Sam clapped her hands to break the tension. It wasn’t entirely successful. “Okay! Okay, I’ll catch up with you guys later, I _promise_. We can do our plans then!”

Ai stared at her unflinchingly, tilting her head slightly.

Sam sighed. “The neutral face of displeasure. Alright, I’ll just be a few hours, then I’ll find you guys, I swear!”

Tiffany called for the elevator. K whistled to fill the awkward silence as they waited for it to arrive.

Sam’s perky voice floated through the elevator doors as they slid shut behind the trio. “See, everyone’s happy!”

“I’m not,” Javik said, his voice dark with displeasure.

Ai said nothing, but she privately agreed.. She couldn’t understand what Samantha saw in Tiffany and K – Tiffany was a goody two-shoes with all kinds of disgusting traits like proper _morals_ and _honor_ and _loyalty_. K was more unscrupulous, but she was obnoxious and had no filter to speak of.

“A poor decision on Samantha’s part,” Javik continued.

“She will regret it.” Her flat tone made it impossible to tell whether it was a threat or simply a statement of fact.

“I suppose we’ll wait for her, although she doesn’t deserve our magnanimity.”

Ai nodded once. She didn’t particularly care for visiting the Citadel during the day anyway, and despite Javik’s insult, Sam’s presence was desirable, especially when they went ashore.

Javik locked eyes with her, and Ai returned the stare, stoic and unblinking, an unspoken challenge.

Javik’s lower two eyes remained fixed on her, but the other two wandered up to linger on her hair in a way that made her skin crawl.

“I suppose we’ll just have to find an… alternative way to entertain ourselves.”

“You are revolting,” Ai informed him. They both knew this didn’t necessarily constitute a “no,” but she wasn’t feeling charitable today.

Her eyes flicked over to Life Support. She’d broken the standoff between them, but she couldn’t stand looking at his disgusting face for even a second longer. She consoled herself with the fact that this one loss meant nothing; she was still the superior one and had prevailed countless other times.

Ai stared at her quarters for a fraction of a second, then glanced back at Javik, who had an insufferable expression on his face.

She turned on her heel and called for the elevator.

It was a scathing rejection, refusing to invite him to her room that was barely ten feet away from where they stood. Life Support was where they had most of their… _encounters_ , for lack of a better word. It gave her the most control over the situation. Pointedly denying Javik access to that space shut down any possibility of anything happening between them that day.

Ai could _feel_ Javik’s eyes boring holes into the back of her head as they boarded the elevator, and the corner of her mouth quirked up into the faintest hint of a schadenfreudian smile.

“We may as well take advantage of the empty ship. Inspect it top to bottom.” She needed to make sure everything was in proper working condition, and she couldn’t be thorough when there were eyes everywhere.

The elevator rumbled to a halt on the fourth deck of the ship, where the port side cargo room served as Javik’s quarters and the bowels of the ship as their lair.

They exited the elevator and resumed walking, hands clasped behind their backs and a Sam-sized space between them so that there was no possibility of accidental contact. They didn’t need to speak to know exactly where they were going.

They descended the stairs to the engineering sub-deck.

At the bottom of the steps, Javik stopped so suddenly that Ai nearly ran into him.

“Something is not right,” he said.

The spike of irritation she’d felt dissipated. She still didn’t trust Javik fully (for all his talk of loyalty, she wasn’t entirely convinced that he wouldn’t stab her in the back), but she _did_ trust his ability to read people and the environment, as disturbingly creepy as it was.

Her gaze swept the space, searching for anything out of the ordinary. “Elaborate.” 

Javik took a few cautious steps forward and bent down, fingers grazing against the metal floor.

“Death,“ he said, straightening out. "The DNA of a… human male. A gifted biotic. Did a member of your crew die here?”

Ai could think of one or two former crew members who matched that description. “Regrettably, no.”

"The residue is strong. Recent. He was not honored in death.”

Ai was not often made to feel ill at ease, but a strange apprehension stirred in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was psychosomatic, but she was beginning to think she smelled the stench of decay, and if it was Javik just getting into her head, she didn’t appreciate it. She called up her omni-tool and scanned the ground. She trusted her technology more than she trusted Javik’s psychometry.

The scanner chirped in response to organic matter. Imperceptible specks of skin and hair lit up on the orange holo-display of her omni-tool with the readings: “Data: 100% Human.”

Ai lifted the scanner. The flakes of rotting organic matter continued in a meandering trail, as if the corpse had shuffled around aimlessly.

Death did not faze Ai. She didn’t bat an eye at a bloated corpse or decomposing remains. But she preferred it to be at her own hands. Her germophobia went strangely quiet when she knew that she was the cause of the gore – she could revel in the blood that she’d spilled. 

But when it was of someone else’s doing, there was no triumph or pride attached, and while there was small comfort in feeling superior to the dead, regardless of whether or not she’d killed them, her aversion to uncleanliness won out over her egotism.

So when the path ended at the panel in the floor that led to the hidden room where she, Sam, and Javik so often convened, her mouth went dry. She did not invite anyone into her personal space, she did not invite _disease_ into her personal space, and if someone had stuffed a dead body–

A loud _clang_ rang out from below. The panel that led to their secret hideaway thumped rhythmically as whatever was inside struggled to get out.

If Ai had a heart, it would have been in her throat. As it was, she was only mildly alarmed. For one brief, ludicrous moment, the part of her that watched far too many East Asian horror vids stupidly thought “ _kyonshī_.”

The next moment, her rational side wanted to shoot herself.

The panel gave way. _Something_ burst out with an unholy screech, its gaunt face twisted like a grotesque Halloween mask, with too many teeth and a flattened snout of a nose.

Ai fired an explosive round from her omni-tool at precisely the same time as Javik biotically yanked the _thing_ in the air and slammed it to the floor. Ai hissed out a curse as the incineration blast clipped its target on the arm.

The creature howled, clutching its arm and retreating to the shadows the second it wrangled free from the glowing green aura of Javik’s biotics. In the low, red light of the ship’s underbelly, it was hard to tell what _it_ was at first, little more than a dark silhouette of something spiny and vaguely human shaped skulking in the corner. Only when it turned its attention on her and attacked again did she realize what it was – a charcoal-colored vorcha with sickly green, mottled markings and lurid red eyes to rival her own.

Javik didn’t interfere when the vorcha pounced this time, allowing her to fend for herself. She lashed out at the vorcha with an incendiary backfist, causing it to recoil.

It dropped something. Ever the tactician, Ai quickly looked down to assess it before snapping her attention back up to her target. A human ear.

Rage flared up in Ai, a sudden spike of violent emotion at the knowledge that her sanctuary – _their_ sanctuary – had been violated. Every warning bell in her head was clanging, counting off everything that made this such an egregious offense: invasion of her privacy, by an alien, bearing a scavenged corpse and filth. Contamination.

“Kill it!” she barked. She switched gears on her omni-tool, transforming it into a forked blade.

With a great, rippling shockwave, Javik bodily threw the vorcha against the wall. Ai had the impression that he was doing his best to put as much distance between them as possible. She couldn’t fault him for the tactic, given that her preferred battlefield combat style consisted of sentry turrets, drones, and her trusty sniper rifle.

Ai couldn’t figure out whether the vorcha was resilient, or just too stupid and stubborn to know when to give up. He picked himself back up, shook his head violently, and dodged Javik’s next biotic attack by leaping onto a support beam. The sub-deck was too small a space for a full blown fight, and the vorcha quickly sealed the distance between them.

All four of Javik’s eyes widened as the vorcha sprang at him, feral and bloodthirsty.

Javik snagged him in self-defense, just as the vorcha latched onto his arm.

He froze.

—

His sensory ability was a gift. A single touch could transmit a lifetime of memories, experiences, ideas at a speed that would liquefy the brains of inferior species. As he read the vorcha, he was hurled into several simultaneous memories, with the most recent standing out in his consciousness.

The gritty streets of Omega. Fluorescent lights flickering overhead as the vorcha scurried through the lowermost alleys of the Kenzo district. A wasted human in the throes of a creeper high, mumbling to himself about all the colors he could see. The vorcha’s interest was piqued by the latter, but he kept going. He hopped over a barrier and rounded a corner to find a nest of vorcha. The space was teeming with dozens of vorcha, a tight-knit mass that he had to pick his way through.

He didn’t make it very far.

A larger, older vorcha stood up from where he was squatting and conversing with other members of their clan.

He pushed the vorcha, a direct challenge, and a full-out brawl ensued that ended with the vorcha flat on his back and gasping for air.

“No more room!” the other vorcha hissed. “We no space for you. You start own clan!”

Physically subjugated, he ducked deferentially as he climbed to his feet. “O-kay. I leave. I leave now.”

He slunk away from the nest, away from his home. Javik could _feel_ the emotions roiling in him. Just simple anger and sadness; he was too dim for a very nuanced outlook on the sudden rejection.

“Poor, poor me,” the vorcha muttered. “All alone…”

Javik had heard that language before. The same primitive tongue. His brain leapt unbidden to past memories, neurons firing rapidly and sewing together connections as he cycled through the Echo Shards he had had the privilege of experiencing. He had been born in the heart of war, long after the fall of the great Prothean Empire. Most of his knowledge of his people and their subordinate races came from the memory shards passed between Protheans. The shards he’d received from his fellow warriors, then passed on, let him live the glory of the empire that he’d never experienced. They let him see old triumphs and conquests and joy in the days of a happy people, before the Reapers came – and they gave him an intimate knowledge of other species: the races they had dominated and assimilated into their empire, the primitives they’d studied, and the lesser species that were good for nothing but food. Their memories became his, then he passed the torch to another warrior.

He’d heard that language before. A vision of the Prothean scientist who had visited the uninhabitable planet of Heshtok to observe its sapient life, discovering the vorcha.

Fifty thousand years.

He had witnessed the demise of his people, risen from their ashes, walked amongst races thousands of times more advanced than their ancestors, the ones he had grown to know from Echo shards of old.

Fifty thousand years, and the vorcha hadn’t changed one bit.

—

He hesitated for the briefest of seconds.

Needle-sharp teeth sank into his arm.

The noise Javik made upon returning to the present was undignified and entirely unbefitting of a Prothean. He threw off the vorcha with a bright green biotic blast.

“Pitiful,” Ai spat in his direction. She wasn’t sure who she was more disgusted with: Javik for freezing in the face of an enemy, herself for going soft and trusting someone else, or the vermin they needed to exterminate.

She should have known better than to trust someone else to do the job. If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself, and Ai always had to do everything herself.

She jammed her forked omni-blade against the vorcha’s throat, pinning him against the wall. With a guttural, horrific gagging sound that made Ai’s ears bleed, the vorcha thrashed about, sharp claws scrabbling at her arm.

She stood her ground and sent a jolt of electrical energy surging through the omni-blade – unfortunately, it wasn’t powerful enough to roast the vorcha alive, but it was enough to stun him. 

All Ai needed to do was drive the blade through his trachea before he bounced back from the shock to his system, but she was so consumed by rage that it was becoming _very difficult_ to concentrate on the target before her. Javik’s incompetence was blinding her. _This_ was why she didn’t get involved with people. Social connections were so tiring. They kept you from focusing on what was really important.

Senseless violence and the eradication of useless alien scum.

In one swift motion, she pulled back and summoned up a combat drone to take her place. The vorcha lunged for the tech drone, only to howl and retreat as he was zapped. He hunched over in the corner to lick his wounds.

Ai rounded on Javik. Her tech drone was equipped with mass effect fields that allowed it to levitate safely out of the vorcha’s grasp, and it was trained to open fire at the slightest movement from its target, which bought her enough time to yell at her companion.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” she snarled. “You could have compromised everything, you useless idiot!”

“I was studying the enemy,” Javik answered by way of explanation, his voice even. “And I had the situation under control, that was just a minor setback.”

Ai sneered. “You lost control of the situation the moment that hideous piece of vermin bit you. _Studying the enemy_. An involuntary reading, then. Those garbage powers make you a liability on the battlefield.”

Javik bristled. “False. If anything, they are an asset, not a liability. When I choose to use them–” Perhaps anticipating Ai’s reaction, he raised his voice and soldiered on to explain, “–In the sense that I ordinarily choose long-range biotics to avoid triggering them – I can read my enemies in an instant, witness their last memories, discover their battle strategies–”

“–become incapacitated and attacked–”

“For a split second, and I retaliated!” Javik retorted.

They stared each other down, both simmering with barely restrained anger.

Javik took a deep breath and continued. “Regardless, my momentary lapse of attention was due to a… revelation.”

Ai was at odds with herself. Her fury at what she perceived to be weakness on Javik’s part conflicted with her drive to know everything and thirst for knowledge.

Curiosity won out. “Explain,” she said.

“Vorcha. They… haven’t evolved.”

She was seized by a sudden desire to roll her eyes, smack Javik, or both. She settled for a derisive scoff and folded her hands behind her back. She’d already lost control of herself today; she needed to rein herself back in. “I could have told you that,” she said. “They don’t evolve.”

She turned her head to look at the vorcha. He hadn’t learned his lesson and was still attempting to attack the drone, with disastrous results.

Javik did not look thrilled to learn that his epiphany meant nothing to Ai, but he continued his train of thought regardless. “I can see how all the species in this cycle have evolved, except for them. Before the war, my people studied primitive species. Groomed them. Before offering them the… choice of joining the empire.”

Her face remained as blank a mask as ever, but Ai exhaled through her nose, a faint huff that was the closest she ever came to a laugh. A “choice.” Amusing.

“We were in the midst of studying this cycle’s species when the Reapers arrived. Humans. Asari. Krogan. Never the vorcha.” He paused. “Not the lizard people, either. I still don’t know how they managed to evolve.”

“You failed to account for their freakish metabolism.” She allowed herself a faint smirk. She didn’t care for salarians, to say the least, but it was entertaining to see just how badly the Protheans had misjudged a race known for its intelligence. “A grotesque miscalculation on your part. Embarrassing.”

“The _point_ ,” Javik said, “is that the vorcha were primitive then and they are primitive compared to your allegedly advanced species now.”

The vorcha squatted on his haunches and sprang upright, hands scrabbling over his head in a desperate bid to reach the drone.

They watched him in silence for a few seconds, neither of them able to come up with an appropriately scathing comment for the spectacle in front of them.

“What is their purpose in this cycle?” Javik finally asked.

“Cannon fodder.” Ai did not mince words.

Javik gave an appreciative hum. “The strong dominate the weak. The weak become a tool for the strong, then perish. The Cosmic Imperative. Perhaps you humans share more similarities with Protheans than I thought.”

“Other humans, maybe. I am without equal.” She flicked her eyes down the length of Javik’s body, then back up to meet his gaze. “An alien could never compare. No matter their ideals.”

“Our strategies are the same. You use vorcha as ‘cannon fodder.’ Their species is not strong enough to thrive alone. They are expendable. In my cycle, weak links became resources. When the Reapers were busy conquering the weak, they were not watching us. It was the logical tactic.”

“That does not make us equals. I am still superior.”

“You are a fool,” Javik said, and Ai was struck with another twinge of irritation. “No, we are not equals. You’re still a primitive. If my warriors survived the cull, we would have reclaimed the galaxy. You would be under my command right now.”

“I would sooner kill myself than be under your control,” Ai said, and she meant every word of it. “I am not one of your weaklings to conquer and discard. I am above that.”

There was a clattering noise, and both of them sharply turned their heads to look at the vorcha, having gotten so wrapped up in their disagreement that they’d nearly forgotten about its catalyst.

The vorcha had sat down, beaten into submission and drained of its bloodlust.

“This is not finished,” Javik said.

Ai inclined her chin in agreement. It was a temporary peace treaty, she supposed. Neither one of them would forget the argument until it reached its bitter end.

“The question now is: what do we do with this… thing?” Contempt dripped from his voice.

It was a valid question. “We could still kill it.” It wouldn’t be quite as satisfying as killing it in the heat of battle, but it was still an option – and given the vorcha’s aggression, she suspected it would put up a fight even if they had subdued it for now.

“We could,” Javik agreed, his voice as casual as if the two of them were discussing what to have for dinner.

“Or–”

She paused, noting how the vorcha’s eyes slid over to the two of them. His gaze was sharp, focused, and she was suddenly acutely aware of his intelligence, limited as it was. She’d grown careless with her words, having already dismissed the vorcha as a mindless, savage creature.

She did a quick visual scan of her drone and, satisfied that it would keep the vorcha in line if he got unruly again, she shifted to face Javik. “We need to speak privately.” She held up her hand. “Keep it brief, I don’t want to touch you any longer than absolutely necessary.”

Javik ignored the jibe. Ai was still irritated with him, not to mention uncomfortable with the very concept of linking minds. Her mind belonged to _her_ , and welcoming another person into her innermost thoughts was deeply disconcerting. It wasn’t just invasive, it was intimate, and Ai had no experience with intimacy. It was unnatural to her.

Javik touched the pads of her fingers with his own three fingertips.

Ai closed her eyes as she entered the dreamlike state of mind she had, on more than one occasion, shared with Javik and Sam.

 _What did you want to tell me?_ Javik’s voice sounded in her head.

She did her best to carefully wipe her mind of all thoughts, save for the words she wanted to share with him. _There’s another option besides killing it. It is beyond idiotic, but it was a worthy adversary. We could bend it to our will._

_Use it as cannon fodder._

_Exactly._

_It could prove useful. It may even be agreeable to being a pawn. Allow me to share with you one of its memories._

He transmitted the vorcha’s last memory, and Ai watched as the vorcha was rejected from his clan. _A pitiful display. Agreed, a new start may make it more amenable to our cause._

_Indeed._

_Enough talk. Get out of my head._

Ai pulled her fingers away, severing the connection between her and Javik. She had all the information she needed, and she didn’t need to linger. For some reason, the encounters were more bearable with Sam involved.

She motioned at Javik, who stepped forward. “You, vorcha–”

“Grist!” the vorcha hissed. He might have been docile, but he was no less terrifying.

Javik and Ai looked at each other. Ai was not the type of person who asked questions. If she asked a question, it was a demand for information, never an admission of ignorance – she _hated_ looking like she didn’t know everything all of the time. She was supposed to be flawless, not some simpleton who was easily puzzled or thrown off guard.

So she was pleased when Javik asked the question: “Is that… a word?” It was difficult to tell whether he was communicating with them, or if the sound was another one of his primal noises.

The vorcha thumped his chest with one clawed hand. “My name Grist.”

Javik’s lip curled. “The primitive speaks at last.”

The harsh cry that Grist emitted in response made Ai grind her teeth. “Why use words when teeth?” He bared his teeth at them to demonstrate how useful they were in combat. Unnaturally long and spiny, they were crusted with blood.

 _Repulsive,_ Ai thought.

“Too many words.” Grist clutched his head and shook it vigorously.

Ai suspected that combat was his preferred communication style simply because his grasp of language was not nuanced enough. Javik was right, as loathe as she was to admit it; vorcha _were_ primitive.

Regardless, she needed words from him. “I do not care.” She took a step towards him.

Perhaps it was her generally menacing presence, or the fact that he overheard them discussing the possibility of killing him, but Grist did not react well. “Back!” he snarled, hackles raised. “Back! You no come closer! I kill you!”

 _As if you would succeed,_ Ai thought to herself, but she kept silent and retreated. Grist settled down, apparently reassured, if still wary of her motives. “Tell me why you are on my ship,” she said, attempting to regain control of the situation.

“Grist clan too big,” he said morosely. “No room on Omega. Find ship, sneaky sneaky, hide away. Then go to new planet, make new clan!”

Ai was not going to question the logistics of this plan. The thought of vorcha breeding – _anyone_ breeding, really – revolted her. “That doesn’t explain the corpse.”

Grist gave her a toothy grin. “Food,” he said. “Me hungry.”

Of course. She didn’t know why she even asked. Of _course_ the scavenger brought a dead human on board the ship as sustenance. Or part of a human, at any rate; Ai couldn’t imagine him sneaking on board with a full corpse, and _oh_ , she would have words with whoever had been guarding the ship while they were on Omega. She was not looking forward to seeing how, exactly, he had besmirched her hideaway.

Grist reached into a pouch on his hip and pulled out a severed human finger. Ai sharply inhaled, the closest she came to a gasp or exclamation of moral outrage.

He nibbled on it until he noticed Ai staring at him with murder in her eyes. He looked down at the half-chewed finger. Looked back at Ai. Extended the dessicated finger bone out to her.

Some people would have viewed it as a proverbial olive branch, and an unusually civilized gesture for a vorcha. Ai viewed it as a heinous insult to everything she held dear: cleanliness, logic, not sharing food with an alien.

“I am going to kill it,” she announced, calling up her omni-tool. Grist was too busy sucking the last meat off the bone to notice her threat.

“Don’t,” Javik warned her.

Ai fixed him with a _look_. She was seized with the urge to ignore him and kill the vorcha anyway purely to spite Javik. She did _not_ like being ordered about and actively disobeyed any direct orders she received.

But logic was stronger than rage, in this particular instance, and she deactivated her omni-tool. “I am not doing this because you told me to,” she informed Javik. “I am doing this because I have reassessed the situation and come to the same conclusion.”

“If that helps you sleep at night,” Javik said, and, not for the first time, Ai questioned why she chose the company of such a smug bastard.

They looked down at Grist. He was chewing on his arm, his burn wounds already blistering.

Javik turned back to Ai, his jaw set. There was only one thing they _could_ do. “Get Samantha.”


End file.
